She’s late. Not by much. But enough that I start to wonder…will she run? Would she dare?
Kirill lets out a quiet laugh beside me, posture lazy, hands folded behind his back like we’re not surrounded by enough firepower to overthrow a small government.
“Think she drove off yet?”
“She could try.” I flick a speck of lint from my sleeve. “But there’s nowhere she can go that I won’t find her.”
He grins. “Romantic.”
Konstantin steps closer, palm clamping around my shoulder. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Especially with everything we know about her. This could bring us a lot of problems.”
“This is the only way, and you know it.”
“Perhaps. But she’s also a prosecutor. Marrying her could burn everything we’ve built.”
“Says the man who married a fed.”
He laughs under his breath. “Ex-fed.” Then his voice drops. “But know this, brother. Fiona may be your wife, but Emilia is mine. And Emilia loves her. If you hurt someone who matters to her…I’ll take it personally.”
My face nears his, and I meet his stare head-on, my blood pumping louder in my temples. “Love has made you soft.”
He closes the distance, expression sharper. “And obsession has made you blind. You keep pretending this is just about business. About revenge. But I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
I say nothing.
“You claim you don’t care, but you watch her like a starving man watches bread. You have stalked her, chased her, protected her. Not because you had to, but because you couldn’t help yourself. You keep saying she means nothing, but you have built a cage just to keep her close.”
I adjust the cufflink on my wrist, eyes narrowing as he fixes his jacket and backs away.
“You’re addicted to the idea of her,” he continues, and the temptation to pull out my gun and use it is too strong. “And every time she gets too close, you push her away. Then you try to sew the hole up afterward like it didn’t tear through you. But love can get to anyone, even you.”
My jaw flexes. “You finished?”
“Almost,” he adds just as the first notes of the violin begin to play. “Try to be a decent husband. It is the only way this doesn’t end with both of you miserable.”
I ignore him, keeping my eyes trained on the entryway where she’s meant to appear. “She makes me miserable.”
“No,” he says simply. “She doesn’t. And that is the part you hate the most.”
I despise it when he’s right.
She drives me mad. Cuts beneath my skin. But I crave her like oxygen.
The crowd rises.
Then she appears, flanked by her parents, the only ones she invited.
And the second I see her, my heart beats faster, even when I beg it not to.
She’s veiled and radiant, the gown hugging her body in a way that steals the air from my lungs. Worth every dollar I spent.
Her eyes slam to mine, her head high, back straight. She looks like she’s ready for the next battle, and I grow hard just thinking about our next fight.
Every step she takes toward me only tightens the pull—this sick, hungry need I keep trying to fight. To crush.
But Konstantin was wrong. Love has nothing to do with this. This is nothing more than need. Possession. Obsession that’s been festering ever since the day she first sat in that courtroom, lips cunning, promising to take everything from me.
Her parents say something to her, then her father presses a kiss to her temple before turning his attention to me.
